Aftermath
by r4ven3
Summary: Harry has been suspended after having given away Albany, but he is not in London. Another HR fic set away from London and the Grid. 8 chapters, rated T for a few chapters, then rating will be bumped up.
1. Chapter 1

** Friday (evening) **

* * *

Ruth looked around the room in search of a familiar face – not just any familiar face, either, but the dearest – as well as the frequently-most-vexatious-and-frustrating – face she knew. Being Friday night, the room was packed, the music was drowned out by the sounds of laughter, glasses clinking, and the rumble and cacophony of countless conversations. She moved into the room, being elbowed by someone carrying a tray of drinks to a table behind her.

"Watch where you're walkin', luv," he said, but Ruth ignored him.

Then she saw him, sitting at the bar, and she began moving closer to him. He was hunched over, his fingers stroking the glass of whiskey in front of him, and as she got closer, she could see …... a woman sitting on the stool beside him, leaning close to him. Ruth stopped and stared. She stared at the woman. How could he? She was …... she was cheap looking, like a hooker, with her trowelled-on makeup, which barely hid a very lived-in face, and her bleached-bond hair. The woman noticed her eyes on Harry, and said something to him, all the while watching Ruth. He turned, those hazel eyes meeting her own, drawing her to him, as they always did.

Ruth moved to turn away and leave. This had been a really bad idea. She should have rung him, except that he was using a pay as you go phone, and she hadn't the number, and he'd been unable to ring her on her phone, since no doubt her phone, like his own, would be tapped.

"Ruth," she heard his voice right behind her, and then he grasped her arm. Ruth's instinct was to pull out of his grasp and run, but then the habit, the desire to run simply fell away from her, and she stopped still, turning to face him. Those eyes, those beautiful, hypnotic eyes. She could not deny him when he looked at her with such sadness. All the fight went out of her, and she sighed.

"Let's get out of here," he said, protectively sliding an arm around her waist, as he guided her out of the bar, through the entrance, and on to the street.

Neither spoke as he negotiated his way through and around groups of rowdy, drunken young people on the pavement, a group of four young men spilling on to the road in a fight over a girl.

"She's wi' me, man."

"Nah, she wi' me -" and he landed a punch on the other man, while two more joined in. The girl in question stood on the pavement, heels elevating her to stratospheric heights, her skirt barely covering her bum, her eyes glowing as brightly as her fluorescent green nail polish, at the spectacle of the young men fighting over her. Ruth was sure she wasn't of legal age to be drinking, and perhaps not even the age of consent, but that was not her concern. That girl's life was someone else's problem. She had enough problems of her own.

Harry drew Ruth around the group, and then with his arm still around her waist, he quickly guided her down a lane off the main street, where his car was parked. Once inside the car, Harry started the engine, and pulled into the lane, driving slowly so as to not attract attention.

"Where are you staying?" he asked, once he'd turned into the main road.

"Castle Lodge Hotel. It's on -"

"I know where it is," he said, as he turned his car northwards. "Do you have a car?"

"No. I came by train."

"From London?"

"Yes."

"Were you followed?"

"Only for a short way. I put the word out that I was visiting my mother. Anyone who knows me well enough also knows that I haven't been in touch with her since my three years in exile. I drove to Cheltenham, and by the time I reached the city limits, my tail had gone. I left that car in a hospital carpark. It was a blue Astra, and there are a million of those on the road. I instructed Tariq to get it back to London as best he can."

"I take it you're on leave."

"Not exactly."

"You've _absconded_? Isn't that risky?"

"No more than it is for you."

"But I'm on enforced leave, Ruth."

"Who was it created the fancy program that has the lights turning on and off at your house, giving the impression that you're still at home?"

"Who do you think?"

"Malcolm's a genius."

"That goes without saying. I'm assuming he told you where I am, and how to find me."

"In a way."

"He told you where my house is?"

"No. He'd never do that. He just told me the bar you frequent of a Friday night."

"Ah …. I must have let that slip."

"Where are we going?"

"To your hotel. We'll pay for your stay, and then you can get your things and come with me."

"Harry -"

"There's to be no discussion on this, Ruth. I'll not have you wandering around an unfamiliar town playing at being a spy."

"_Harry!_"

"What?"

They were stopped at traffic lights, waiting for them to turn green. Harry's eyes were on the road, and Ruth's eyes were on him. She looked at him, thinking how beautiful he was, but how infuriating he could be. He hadn't once asked her if she wanted to go with him. He'd immediately assumed she was better off with him than on her own …... which she was. She just wished he'd thought to consult her, even though she knew that, on consultation, she'd happily go with him. If only he could have been this assertive, this assured when she'd turned down his marriage proposal, instead of accepting her answer without question. If only he'd stood up to her then.

"Who was that woman?" The words tumbled out of her mouth. She hadn't meant to sound like a sniping wife. She hadn't planned to mention the tarty woman who'd been draped over Harry's arm in the pub.

"What woman?"

"The one in the bar. The one who was almost sitting on top of you."

The lights turned green, and Harry pulled away. Ruth noticed a smile on his lips, and immediately wished she'd not mentioned the woman.

"That was Linda. At least, that's what she told me. She looks after me."

"As in …...?"

"No, Ruth, not in that way." He turned and looked at her, noticing the frown line between her eyes. _Good God, she's jealous!_

"What way did you think I meant?"

"You know. I haven't slept with her. She tried it on with me a few times, but I told her I was with someone. She asked me where that someone was, and I said that she was in London working. She kept trying to get me to take her to bed, and I kept refusing. She claimed to give the best oral sex in Suffolk."

"You were tempted?"

Harry laughed aloud then. "Not even slightly," he said.

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

There was a silence of a few minutes while Harry drove through the back streets to avoid the traffic.

"You said she looks after you. You know how that sounds, don't you?"

"It's all down to how you interpret it, Ruth. When Linda is with me, no-one bothers me – male or female."

"You've been hit on by men?"

"Once, the first night I went to that bar. Does that surprise you?"

"A little."

"Here's your hotel. Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No, Harry. That would look strange, and the duty manager may remember us being together. It's best I go in alone."

* * *

Harry drove north out of Felixtowe, turning off the main road, and taking a series of lanes into what could only be described as the hinterland, if in fact there was any kind of hinterland still to be found in Suffolk.

"This looks like the back blocks, Harry. Is it safe?"

"As safe as anywhere in the UK."

He pulled the car into a narrow lane which wove between the trees for almost a mile. At the end of the lane was a wood, and within this wood was a house.

"I bought this soon after my divorce. It was run down, and needed a lot of repairs, so it took me a while to get it in a good enough condition to even make it habitable. I think you might like it."

Harry drove the car to the front door, and then killed the motor. The house was quite narrow, but had two stories, along with an attic in a gable in the roof.

"It looks lovely, Harry," Ruth said, staring up at it.

"I bought it for a song. It'd be worth a bit now."

"I don't doubt it. Is it in your own name?"

Harry looked across at her and smiled, the first open smile she'd seen from him that night. "Of course not. I'm James Benjamin Munro while I'm here. James after my father, Benjamin after my brother, and Monro is my mother's maiden name. The locals call me James."

"Hello James. I'm Emma Barnes."

Ruth followed Harry upstairs, and down a corridor to a bedroom at the back of the house.

"This room is the third bedroom, but it has the best view. You can see over the whole valley behind the house."

Ruth's room was small, but comfortable, and the double bed was made with a navy blue duvet, and matching pale blue pillowcases on the pillows.

"You were expecting me, Harry?"

"Not exactly. I prefer to call it hoping that you'd find your way here."

Harry put her bags at the foot of the bed, and opened the wardrobe door, and showed her where she could hang her clothes, and the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe.

"The bathroom is next to my room. Follow me. I'll show you."

Ruth felt strange being shown around Harry's house in the country. And she felt even stranger when he showed her the bathroom, with it's large, claw-footed tub, along with a spacious shower alcove.

"You could share that shower with several others, Harry," she said, not even thinking about how her observation may be interpreted.

"I'm sure I could invite friends in to share the tub with me also," he said.

When their eyes met, and they each noticed a look of realisation on the face of the other, and they turned away, as if needing to examine the room around them in detail. It was their first genuinely awkward moment, a moment when the double meaning was clear, even if unintended.

"You can unpack your things if you like, Ruth. I'll go downstairs and make us a cuppa."

* * *

The kitchen in Harry's cottage was spacious, with an Aga against one wall, and floor to ceiling cupboard space along the opposite wall. The wooden table stood in the centre of the room, with six chairs around it. Harry indicated she should sit in the chair across the corner from him. While he poured them each a cup of tea, she looked around the room.

"There's a storage pantry through that door," he said, pointing to a wooden door between the sink and the cupboards. "It was little more than an empty room with a dirt floor when I bought the house."

"It's a lovely house, Harry. Do you plan to retire here?"

"One doesn't usually plan to retire to their safe house, Ruth."

"Is that what this is?"

He nodded, and Ruth saw the sadness there.

"They won't get rid of you," Ruth said, hoping she sounded more reassuring than she felt.

"I think there's every chance they will," he replied. "I could even do time. There are people – in the JIC, in government – who would love to see me behind bars."

"I won't let that happen," she said, with more conviction than she truly felt.

Harry put down his cup, and folded his hands in front of him. "You have more faith in me than I deserve, Ruth."

"I happen to know what kind of man you are, and the world needs men like you, not like …..."

"The yes-men in grey suits."

"Yes …... like them."

"You've changed your tune, Ruth."

"I know. I just needed time to …... see why you did …... what you did. Had I been the one having to make the decision you were faced with ….." Ruth looked at him, seeing his eyes on her, waiting for her answer, needing to hear her words, needing her to be absolutely truthful. "I could never have let you die, Harry. I ….. the world …... needs you."

Harry put out his hand and covered her own. They sat in silence while they both thought about the change in circumstances between them. Harry smiled, and squeezed Ruth's hand.

"Did finding out the weapon was inoperable change your mind, Ruth?"

"No, of course not. I had to decide whether saving you was worth committing treason for, and whichever way I looked at it, the answer was always the same." She looked at Harry then, and saw the adoration for her in his eyes. She wasn't about to let them get waylaid by emotion. There was much they had to do.

"How long are you planning to stay?" he asked.

"As long as it takes. I left the Grid without announcing my departure, although Dimitri and Tariq know where I've gone and why. If they throw you out, they'll have to throw me out along with you. As I see it, it's the security service's loss."

"That's …... rather bolshie of you, Ruth." A smile softened Harry's features.

"I thought that it was about time someone stood beside you on that wall."

Without warning, Harry picked up the hand he held, and brought it to his lips. He put his lips to the back of her hand, and then he turned her hand over, and kissed her inner wrist. Ruth felt her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, before she withdrew her hand from his grasp.

"It's been a long day," she said quietly, "and I'm tired." She stood up quickly, pushing back her chair as she did. "Thank you for rescuing me, Harry." She put her hand on his shoulder, but quickly removed it before she walked to the door.

She turned and looked at him, seeing the bewilderment in his eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt him, and she certainly didn't mean to reject him. It's just that sometimes she found Harry to be overwhelming.

"I'll see you in the morning. We have a lot to do."

When she left the room, Harry sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. He didn't know whether he felt happy, or disappointed. Perhaps what he felt was a little of both. The woman he loved was under his roof, but she still had her walls... as did he.


	2. Chapter 2

** Saturday (morning)**

On waking, Ruth padded across to the window in her pyjamas, and pulled back the curtains. Daylight blinked through the blanket of fog which covered the ground. She was thinking that she could see no other signs of life, when she noticed a lone figure walking through the grass, following a small dog on a lead. She'd not ever seen Harry wearing that coat – a mustard colour, with what appeared to be a lambswool lining – and thick tan coloured pants. He was almost always dressed in a dark suit, with a white shirt and a coloured tie. She suddenly realised how little she knew about Harry the man. Seeing him dressed casually made him appear different – perhaps less forbidding, and more approachable. She watched him until he disappeared into the fog.

After showering, Ruth went downstairs to make herself breakfast, and found he'd left her a note under the teapot on the bench. _I've taken Scarlet for a walk. There are pancakes warming in the oven. H x_ Not only was he considerate and quiet in the mornings, but he could also cook! Why did she ever turn down his proposal of marriage? Because it was inappropriate, and he took her by surprise, that's why. Her motto had always been: _When in doubt, say no_.

Perhaps that was a really stupid motto. Perhaps it was time she updated her mottos and her view of Harry. Except that now he'd lumbered her with responsibility for him having given away Albany. It was his love for her which had led him to committing treason …... which may have been considered a romantic gesture in the Middle Ages, but in the twenty first century, it was an unwelcome burden.

Ruth had finished eating two pancakes, and had poured herself a second cup of tea, when Harry returned with Scarlet. The little dog ran into the sitting room, and flopped on to the hearth in front of the stove.

They greeted one another warily, each hoping they could transcend the impasse they had reached the evening before.

"I usually do my thinking while I'm out walking the dog," Harry began, as he sat down with a cup of tea and two pancakes. "It occurred to me that I should have asked you last night whether you actually wanted to come back here with me."

"The same thing occurred to me, but my intention was to come here …... if you would have me. It was Malcolm who suggested I look for you in that particular bar."

"And had I not been there?"

"I would have emailed Malcolm, asking him to contact you. We need to face this together, Harry. You shouldn't have to deal with this situation on your own."

He smiled at her as he looked up at her. "By `situation', I'm supposing you mean the hearing about my supposed act of treason."

"Yes."

"But it was me who made that call, Ruth. It's not your responsibility to face this with me."

"I think it is. I want to, Harry. If it had been Tariq who had been kidnapped and drugged -"

"I would have found it difficult, but I would have kept the weapon, and not given it away."

"Are you sure about that?"

"No …... I'm not, but there was never a doubt in my mind that I couldn't allow you to die."

Ruth watched him across the expanse of the kitchen table. They had lived through so many moments such as this …... moments when their whole history, their life, their unspoken feelings threatened to rise to the surface, seeking expression.

Harry put down his knife and fork, and leaned forward, as though trying to get closer to her. His voice when he spoke was quiet, but intense.

"I have never regretted what I did, Ruth. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. We both know what it is I feel for you, but it was not just that which led to my decision to give Albany to Lucas. You are without doubt the most valuable asset in the whole of MI-5, perhaps in the whole security service itself. Your intelligence, your agile mind, your ability to make a decision in an instant has saved this country on countless occasions. I am currently writing a report on your contribution to the country's security during the past seven and a half years. I'm up to forty thousand words, and I haven't even reached the time of your leaving the country to go into exile."

"You'll have to show it to me, Harry. I'd quite like to read it."

"Never. It's not for your eyes. You have no idea how important you are to the country, Ruth, and I'm certain you have no idea how important you are to me... both personally, as well as professionally."

Ruth maintained eye contact with him, despite her experiencing mild shock at his bluntness, his honesty about how he felt about her. She'd never before heard him speak in this way.

"Say something, Ruth."

"I don't know what to say. I …... never think of myself in those terms, Harry. I know that you …... I know how you feel about me, but …... the rest of it surprises me."

Ruth looked down at her tea, and then took a spoon and stirred it – unnecessarily, but she had to do something so that she no longer looked into those eyes. She had meant to tell him how she felt about him, how she loved him, and had for such a long time, but she couldn't get her tongue around the words, so she settled for a safer topic.

"I …... I have a contact ….. her name's Toni Banks -"

"Antonia Banks, reader in law at Cambridge University. Married to Jeremy Richards, former MI-6 officer, who's been banged up for treason since 1999."

"That's the one. I rang her from work, Harry, and she says that if they put you on open trial, she has a group of barristers who will get you off in a day, and you could even be pardoned."

"Then that won't happen, Ruth. As much as I appreciate Toni Banks' information, if there's any chance of public opinion being on my side, then they won't go down that path."

"Can't you demand a fair trial, Harry?"

"Of course, but that doesn't mean I'll get one. It's a tribunal, and as such, there is little opportunity for input by others, including myself." Harry passed both his hands over his face in a gesture of defeat. "I shouldn't have allowed you to come here, Ruth. I'm putting you in danger by your being here."

"Harry, have you forgotten that my being here is my idea? This is what I want. Had I agreed to marry you, I'd be expected to stand by your side."

"But you didn't agree to marry me."

Ruth sighed, looking up at him, his face sad, his features tired and drained by tension.

"I've been regretting my decision, Harry. Your ….. proposal took me by surprise. It wasn't as though we were exactly close at that time …... other than professionally, of course."

"Of course. We've always been close professionally." She detected a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Are you saying that if I asked you to marry me now, the answer would be different?"

"I wouldn't say no. I'd say a definite maybe."

Harry's face was transformed by a wide smile. "What would motivate you to saying yes?"

"I'd quite like to get to know you away from work. That's one of the reasons I'm here."

Harry nodded. "The timing's still bad though."

"How?"

"Suppose in seven weeks, when my case is heard, I'm gaoled. That wouldn't be a good way for us to end, would it?"

"I'd wait for you."

"I wouldn't expect you to. What if I'm put away for thirty years? I'd die in gaol."

Ruth looked down at her cup, now almost empty. How can she possibly tell him that she'd wait for him forever, until after they were both dead?

"I'd better get to work, then."

"Work?"

"Harry, I'm here to support you, to stand beside you. I have a pile of research to do, and then when I collate the information, I have to figure out what strategy the inquiry panel will most likely take. Then I have to coach you …... like I did the time you applied for the DG's job."

* * *

** Saturday (early evening) **

Ruth got up from her laptop, where she'd been for most of the day, and stretched, and yawned, and then rubbed the back of her neck, sore from her having sat in the same position for too long.

"Have you made any progress?" Harry said from the doorway, where he leaned lazily against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest.

She smiled across at him. "I've missed you today."

"I guess that could be classed as progress," he said quietly, his eyes holding hers.

Ruth chose to ignore the implied intimacy in his statement. She was still not ready to venture into a discussion about their personal relationship. She was finding the research into Harry's current situation a useful distraction, as well as a way of maintaining some distance between the two of them.

"I just received an email from Toni Banks. She's putting together a suggested set of questions that she believes the inquiry panel will put to you. She asked me to give her a day or two for her to put together some possible approaches the panel might take. In the meantime, she suggests I research both her husband's case, as well as the cases of Arthur Begley and Clive Simpson."

"Simpson got off, but Begley was gaoled," Harry said, his voice still quiet. "Why those two?"

"I'm surmising it's because in each case, the agents had to make difficult choices, and each technically committed treason because of the choice they ultimately made."

"Begley's case was the one most similar to mine. He went into a foreign embassy to rescue one of his officers, and he had to give away secret information before they'd let them both go. The only difference was that he wasn't in love with his officer."

"Do you remember who the officer was?"

"No. I know it was a man, and that Begley should have let him die in there. He shouldn't have been there in the first place."

Ruth was noticing how often Harry was mentioning his feelings for her, and often in an indirect way. It seemed to her that he wanted her to know, just in case he _was_ gaoled for life. She stepped away from the desk, and walked towards him. He didn't move from the doorway, and if she was to get through the doorway and downstairs, so that she could help him prepare dinner, she first had to deal with him.

When she reached him, she found that she could slide past him, but she also found that she didn't want to. She stood in front of him, and placed her hand on his arm. Still with his eyes on hers, he turned his arm around so that his hand grasped hers. He brought her hand up to his chest, and held it over his heart. She could feel his heart beating beneath her knuckles, so she turned her hand so that her palm covered his heart, and he turned his hand to cover hers. During this dance of their hands, their eyes never left the other.

Ruth stepped closer to him, so close that she could smell the whiskey on his breath, and hear that his breathing was faster and shallower. She took her eyes from his, and leaned into him, her palm still on his chest, her head resting against his shoulder. _Ahhh_ …... that felt wonderful, and nothing strange or difficult or embarrassing had happened. Her other hand rested on his waist, and with his free hand, Harry drew her nearer still, his palm on the small of her back.

They stayed that way for some time. It felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt like a fine way for two mature people to be expressing their love for one another. As much as Ruth really wanted to kiss Harry, she was also relieved that he hadn't moved in that direction. She wasn't yet ready to face the will-they-or-won't-they dilemma. She still required time in which to sort out her feelings about that.

"We have to eat some time, Ruth," he said at last, and so taking her hand in his, they walked downstairs together to prepare dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

** Sunday (morning) **

Ruth awoke in a sweat, her heart beating rapidly. She'd been dreaming about a large brown bear chasing she and Harry through the woods, and she had had to take his hand and pull him away from the bear, since he kept turning towards it in an attempt to reason with it.

"_You can't reason with a bear,_" she kept shouting at him, dragging him by the hand, and convincing him at last to run for his life.

She headed straight for the shower, standing under it for a long time in an attempt to wash away her concerns for Harry. What she hadn't shared with him was her fear that no matter what they did, and how well he was coached, his future may have already been determined, and no amount of logic or reasoning would have an effect on the outcome. While under the shower that morning, Ruth recognised that she was very, _very_ invested in Harry retaining his freedom.

Ruth left the bathroom after her long shower. All she wore was her bathrobe ... and her fluffy slippers to keep her feet warm. As she left the bathroom, her room was to the right, while Harry's room was to the left. She looked left, to see that his door was ajar. Without thinking about possible consequences, Ruth turned left, and stood in the open doorway to Harry's bedroom. His bed was made, the dark maroon duvet pulled up, and the pillows straight and plumped. Looking around the room, she could see nothing out of place. Harry was a tidy man in the bedroom as well as out of it.

She suddenly had a desire to know more about Harry in the bedroom. She stepped into the room, and sat on the bed. She was wondering on which side of the bed he slept, and was even considering leaning down and sniffing the pillows, to determine which was his, when she heard a movement from the doorway. She turned suddenly, to see Harry standing there, watching her.

"I'm ….. I'm sorry, I was …..."

"You were curious, Ruth."

She nodded, sure that her face was flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm …... I'm flattered that you'd want to see my bedroom. I would have shown it to you earlier, but I assumed that you were not terribly interested."

"I wanted to know what your bedroom was like. You can tell a lot about a person from …..." Even to her own ears, her reasoning sounded weak.

"And what do you deduce from my bedroom?" As he spoke, Harry had entered the room, and sat on the other side of the bed from her. They could have been a married couple having a conversation about their children.

"It's …... tidy."

"Is it too tidy, do you think?"

"It's tidier than my bedroom ever is, but maybe it's because I'm always doing several things at once, while you're …..."

"Anally retentive and fussy."

"Yes ….. no, that's not what I'm saying" Ruth stood quickly, realising that the situation could easily get out of hand. They were both in Harry's bedroom, and Harry was in love with her, and she with him, and she wore only one garment on her body ... three, if slippers counted as garments. That had to be a recipe for …...

Ruth suddenly stood, and hurried from Harry's room, not even looking at him, afraid her inner dialogue would lead her to doing something she'd later regret. Harry watched her leave, wondering was it something he said.

* * *

After lunch, Harry asked Ruth to accompany him into Ipswich.

"I have some shopping to do. I need some more walking boots, as mine have sprung a leak, and I need some groceries, and some wine and some whiskey. We can't be running out of any of that."

"I have a lot of work to be doing here, Harry."

"Forget the case for one day, Ruth. Please ..."

As reluctant as she was to be spending the day with Harry – alone in his car with him, shopping with him, acting like they were partners, and not colleagues – Ruth was also on the verge of becoming lost inside the case to save Harry. She shared her fears with him while they were on their way into Ipswich.

"How are you managing the task you set yourself, Ruth?" he asked, not long after they left the mile-long lane which led to Harry's house.

"I'm not getting very far, I'm afraid. I'm not trained in the law, but I am quite familiar with the Security Service Act, but like all laws, there can be so many different interpretations of what you did. I'm really afraid that I won't be able to create a clear strategy for you, and that if they decide to send you to gaol, or even to sack you, I'm -"

"If that happens, Ruth, it won't be your fault."

"Won't it?"

"No. Absolutely not. I have little idea what you've dredged up thus far, but I suggest that you take a day or two off from the work."

"But I've only spent a day and a half on it, Harry. To do this properly might take me weeks."

"And it might take you two days. You are going to have to leave some of this to sheer chance, Ruth. As much as I appreciate what you're doing for me, and I love you for it, I don't want you having a breakdown trying to save me. I'm not worth it."

"You're worth it to me."

Harry reached across, and grabbed her hand, and lifted it to his lips, all while keeping his eyes on the road. He continued to hold her hand on his thigh until they reached the outskirts of Ipswich. Then Ruth removed her hand, not wanting to distract him from his driving.

They visited three shoe shops until they found one which specialised in equipment and clothing for camping, fishing and walking. Harry kept asking Ruth what style she liked best, and she kept reminding him that since he'd be the one wearing the boots, then what she thought of them – aesthetically or otherwise – was of minimal importance.

"I want to look pleasing to your eye, Ruth."

She smiled at him, whispering to him, since they were sitting side by side while he was trying on boots, "You're always pleasing to my eye, Harry."

Surprising both of them, Harry then leaned across and kissed her. It was a soft touch of his lips on hers, which became something more only for a fraction of a second, as Harry's tongue sought hers and found it. He pulled away, and busied himself with his boots. Ruth was stunned into silence.

All the way through their grocery shopping, and then while they stopped for coffee at a café, and then on the way home in the car, Ruth had very little to say. She answered questions, and continued conversations begun by Harry, but she initiated nothing. When, after they'd arrived home and unpacked their purchases, Ruth again went upstairs to the second bedroom which had been turned into her office, Harry was sure that he'd acted improperly by kissing her.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and even once Harry had opened a second bottle of wine, and Ruth was still unusually quiet, Harry bit the bullet.

"I'm sorry if I acted inappropriately today, Ruth. Perhaps I shouldn't have kissed you, but it seemed the right thing to be doing at the time."

"It was the right thing, Harry. I liked it."

"Then …... what's going on, Ruth? I just don't know any more."

"I don't even know myself. I just …... I'm shocked by …..."

"By what, Ruth?"

"I'm shocked by how your kiss affected me …. Harry."

"And how was that?" They were sitting at the kitchen table, and by this time they were half way through their second bottle of white wine. Neither were drunk, or even inebriated, but both were mellow.

"It made me feel …... very warm."

"But that's how a kiss should feel, Ruth."

"Did kissing me make you feel warm?"

"Very."

Ruth fell into silence, avoiding his eyes, until she suddenly stood up, said goodnight to him, and left the kitchen. Harry poured the remainder of the bottle into his glass, and sat over it, wondering how long it was going to be before they no longer took four steps forward, and three-and-a-half steps back. Progress was being made, but it was oh – so – slow, and he was tired from waiting.

When Harry went upstairs to bed, he noticed the light shining through the gap under the door to the second bedroom – Ruth's office. What he didn't know was that she'd tried to sleep, and couldn't. Her body had betrayed her. She wasn't so much warm as she was hot, and no matter how occupied her mind, her body seemed to be crying out to her to listen to it. She heard Harry's movements as he went to bed – the toilet flushing, the rush of water in the hand basin, and the gurgle as it drained away, the bathroom door closing, and then his light being turned off. She imagined him in bed, his body curled up under the duvet, and that was when she decided she needed to at least try to sleep, before she initiated something which had the potential to lead to embarrassment.

** Monday (morning) **

Ruth was dreaming again about the bear chasing her and Harry. Harry turned to face the bear, beginning to argue with it, claiming that it was chasing them under false pretenses. Ruth stopped, grabbed his hand, and shouted at him, "_You can't argue with a bear, Harry. Now, run._" And they ran, and ran until she awoke short of breath.

When her breathing had steadied, Ruth looked at her bedding, noticing that her feet were entangled in the duvet. These dreams …... they were exhausting her. She untangled the duvet, and re-lay it over her body, and then she lay back against her pillow, thinking about the dreams. She had once read somewhere that dreams are the nighttime expressions of daytime hopes and fears. She feared the bear, and she feared Harry being hurt by the bear. _You can't reason with a bear. You can't argue with a bear._ So what was the inevitability represented by the bear? No doubt that would be the sheer power of the tribunal, the inevitability of the way the laws were interpreted. There was nothing new there. She was aware of how much she feared Harry being sent to gaol, and having him rot away, while his talent and abilities wasted away with him, along with any chance they may have had a of creating a life together. If the security services wanted Harry's head on a plate, then that's what it would have.

What if nothing she was doing could save Harry?

What if Harry's fate _had _already been sealed?

Ruth drifted into a fitful sleep, and awoke when she heard Harry moving about. As she walked down the corridor towards the bathroom, she was tempted to go into the second bedroom, and again look through the Security Services Act, in search of a loophole. She didn't. As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, washing her face, she knew that were there a loophole of any kind, Toni Banks would already know about it, as would the members of the inquiry.

* * *

Harry looked up from the frypan, where he was cooking himself some bacon and eggs, to see Ruth, dressed and ready for the day, enter the kitchen. She said a quiet `good morning', and helped herself to a cup of tea from the pot.

"Shall I put in extra for you?" he asked, indicating the frypan.

"No, thanks. I'll just make myself some toast."

Harry recognised a certain air of `I don't want to talk' about Ruth. She worried him, which was silly, because he also knew that she was worried about him, and what would happen as a result of the inquiry.

"I'm thinking of driving to Cambridge to have a face-to-face chat with Antonia Banks," she said, as she buttered her toast.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I hardly think that's a good idea. You're meant to be in hiding, and I suspect that Toni Banks will be one of the contacts you will be expected to make. Let me go in your stead."

"You'll need to borrow my car."

"There is that, yes. Have you been followed since you've been here?"

"No. And before you ask, I've had my eye out for a tail, and there's been none. I rang work this morning – using my pay as you go phone – and there are still watchers outside my place. They believe that I'm home."

"Surely they expect you to go out occasionally. What about -"

"Dimitri has that covered. He's kept Alec on the books, and he lives in my house every third day, while one of the junior officers does some shopping, and takes it around. So far it seems to have fooled them."

"It won't fool them forever."

"I won't be here forever."

"I guess not."

Ruth suddenly felt very sad. Despite her best efforts, she may not be able to make a difference to the outcome of Harry's hearing. She may not be able to save him – from defeat, and humiliation.

"Ruth …..."

"Yes, Harry."

"Please don't go anywhere today. Please stay here. With me. I need …..."

"You need what, Harry?"

"I need you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far. I hope you continue to enjoy.**_

* * *

** Monday (morning) **

The silence between them dragged into a minute, then two, then three minutes. Harry sat watching Ruth while she avoided eye contact with him. They'd been doing this ever since she came home from Cyprus, and he was tired from it …... tired from waiting …... for her …... to want him …... as much as he wanted her.

Harry could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was time he took hold of the reins of their relationship. Honesty was needed, and he'd have to be the one to kick it off.

"Ruth …..."

At the mention of her name, she looked up at him. Her eyes were large and he was aware of the fear she was attempting to hide.

"Ruth …... it's quite possible, even likely, that I'll be put away, and perhaps for a long time. You only have to look at Jeremy Richards. He should have been given no more than five years, and instead he got fifteen. It all depends on who you are. I'll get at least fifteen, maybe more."

Ruth put her head down, and picked at her last piece of toast with her fingers, breaking it into firstly two pieces, and then four. Harry reached across and put his hand on hers, stopping her from breaking the toast any more.

"What I'm trying to say, Ruth, but am having difficulty in getting to the point ….. is ... I want to spend as much of my remaining time as a free man with you. Do you know what I mean by that?"

"You want to sleep with me."

"Well, yes, I do, but that isn't even the main thing. Since you've been here, you've shut yourself away in that bedroom you call an office, and I've hardly seen you."

Ruth opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand in a `stop' motion.

"I know what you're trying to achieve, Ruth, and I do appreciate it, and I love you for it, but if I had to choose between you spending all the hours that God gave you trying to get me off the charge, only to have me end up behind bars …... or spending what may be my last few weeks of freedom with you night and day …... Ruth, I have to be honest …... I'd choose the latter every time."

"You think I'm wasting my time?" Ruth's eyes were very blue, her anger clear in their flashing brilliance.

"I have something to tell you. This morning, while I was out walking Scarlet, I rang Toni. She's looked closer at my case, and examined the histories of the probable members of the panel, and she agrees with me. You could spend the next four weeks preparing my defence, when it's unlikely the defence you prepare will be the one needed. She did that with Jerry – and she's a lawyer – and despite him being well prepared, it didn't help him. He was the right man at the wrong time. They wanted to make an example of him. Toni now gets to see him once a week for two hours. That has become the sum total of their marital relationship."

Without answering him, Ruth got up and left the room. Harry heard her climb the stairs quickly, and then after a few seconds he heard her bedroom door slam. He sighed, not knowing what he should best do - go after her, or wait a few hours for her to calm down. Which she would, he was sure.

In her own room, Ruth curled up on the bed against her pillow, and began chewing the edges of her fingernails. It was something she did only when she was very, _very_ agitated. Bloody Harry had gone behind her back! He'd conspired with bloody Antonia Banks, and between them they had found a way to call her off. They'd treated her like a mad dog chewing at a bone. _How dare they!_ Ruth churned over the conversation she'd just had with Harry – or more correctly, that Harry had had with her – and she still came up with the same conclusion. Harry was a selfish bastard who'd go to any lengths to get his leg over.

When at last she heard Harry go into his small office next to his own bedroom, and close the door, she changed into jeans, walking boots, and added her thickest jumper, and a hooded parka. Then she crept down the corridor, past Harry's office door, down the stairs. She left the house by the back door, and then purposefully walked along the path to the back gate. She was ready to explore the environment. Perhaps a long walk in the surrounding woods would clear her head.

* * *

Harry had heard Ruth leave the house mid morning. He wasn't especially worried about her. He knew that she had a way of flaring up when hurt or embarrassed, or when she believed she'd been unappreciated – which he suspected was how she'd felt when he'd rather clumsily suggested she stop trying to save him. He knew her well enough to know that if he left her alone to stew on something, she'd eventually calm down.

When she wasn't home by lunchtime, he tried her phone, but heard it ringing from the sitting room. Bloody hell, Ruth. Did you _mean_ to leave your phone at home? When she hadn't arrived home by three o'clock, he was in the early stages of panicking, tossing up whether he should go out in search of her, or call the police. He decided that involving the police would be a bad move, so he had no sooner entered his bedroom to change his shoes, when he heard the click of the back door closing. He hurried out of his room shoeless, and stood at the top of the stairs.

"Ruth? Is that you?" he called out, hoping he sounded calm, but recognising the terror beneath his words.

"Can you come down here?" she called back. "We need to talk."

The four words every man dreads hearing ….. _we need to talk_ …... always a prelude to a breakup, or a litany of the man's shortcomings. Well, were it either, he was sure that it was deserved. He'd been an insensitive fool.

He silently descended the stairs, expecting the very worst. She was about to tell him she wanted him to drive her to the train station so that she could go back to London. That would be the best outcome. The worst would be that she was about to apply for a transfer out of Section D, and that she never wanted to see him again. No, the worst would have been had she not come back from her walk. The worst would be had someone knocked on his door to tell him she'd been attacked, or killed. There could be no news worse than that.

He reached the living room and watched her from the doorway. She had not heard him come down the stairs, as he hadn't had time to put on his shoes. She was standing in front of the combustion stove, her eyes on Scarlet's sleeping form, and her face appeared relaxed, even happy.

"You had me worried," he said quietly, causing her to swing around in surprise.

She walked a little closer to him, so that they were only a yard or so apart. He could hear her breathing. All it would take would be another two steps, and he could pull her to him, kiss her, and any problems he had created by acting without consulting her would magically dissolve. Wouldn't they?

Suddenly, Ruth put her finger across her lips in a `shh' gesture. She looked around the room, and pointed to the corners of the room, and then to her ears. Harry immediately understood what she was saying …... `the walls have ears.' He pointed towards the front door, so they both walked quietly towards the door. When he reached the door, he put on his coat, and the new walking boots he'd left just inside the door. The leather was still stiff and hurt his heels when he walked, so it would take some time for him to wear them in.

They stepped through the front door on to the driveway. It was beginning to get cold, so Ruth suggested they sit in his car. Inside the car, Harry drew his car keys from the pocket of his coat, and turned on the ignition so that the radio played. He tuned it to a station playing classical music, and turned it down so that they could still talk above it.

"What have you found out?" he asked at last, relieved that she seemed to no longer be angry with him.

"I spent most of the morning in that little hut in the woods. Have you seen it?"

"Of course. I think it belongs to a woodsman, but it's on my neighbour's property. I'm sure no-one minds that others use it. I'm told some young people use it for courting."

"That's a quaint name for it."

Harry smiled widely. His Ruth was back.

"I take it you found something, Ruth."

"I almost ran into it. Down the lane – just around the corner from the hut – there was a van parked amongst the trees. There were two men in the front, and they were operating equipment."

"What sort of equipment?"

"Tracking equipment. There was a digital antenna on the roof of the van. The name on the side of the van said `Wheeler Electrical Services', with an address in Felixstowe. And a mobile phone number. The number was all prime numbers along with a couple of zeros."

"Prime numbers, Ruth? I thought you bore nothing but contempt for mathematics."

"No. Only for mathematicians. I rang the number -"

"But your phone was home, Ruth, in the sitting room."

Ruth pulled a basic phone out of the pocket of her jacket. "I also have a pay as you go. I tried the number. It wasn't connected. Then I rang Tariq's mobile, and got him to check the name of the business and the address. The business hasn't existed since 1987, and the address is a vacant block of land."

"But Ruth, I check my house regularly for bugs, and I've not ever found any."

"When did you last check?"

"Last Monday. A week ago. I check the house weekly. Never found anything."

"Then we need to check it now."

Realisation dawned on Harry. "Yesterday," he said. "We were out for a few hours yesterday afternoon. They wouldn't have heard much since then. We've barely been talking ... but we did talk about Toni Banks and Jeremy Richards."

"We have to get those bugs, and throw them in a bucket of water. You take the downstairs, and I'll do upstairs."

"Upstairs? But I only have one tracking device."

Ruth smiled slowly at him. "I found one at the bottom of my bag after I left work on Friday. Can't think how it got there. I'll have to thank Tariq when I get back."

Harry had begun to leave the car, removing his keys, and opening the door. "It's better I don't know about this, Ruth."

An hour later, they had gone through every room in the house, and found two devices in the sitting room, three in the kitchen, and two in Harry's bedroom. Harry took it upon himself to destroy them with a hammer.

"It's more satisfying than throwing them in water," he explained, as Ruth watched. "Now all we have to do is check who those two men are. I'll ring Malcolm. I don't wish to involve anyone on the Grid …... just in case this all blows up in my face."

**Monday (evening)**

"In all the excitement about the van," Ruth began over dinner, "I forgot to tell you what I decided while I was hiding out in that woodsman's hut."

Harry took a sip of his wine, and waited for Ruth to continue. He hated moments like this – moments which could make his life miserable for the rest of his days, moments like after Ros' funeral, when he'd waited for her to given him an answer to his proposal of marriage. He had feigned understanding when she'd turned him down, but in some deeper part of him, he had never quite recovered. He'd felt wounded by her refusal, and he was still worried that at any moment she could again deny her feelings for him …... feelings he was certain she had, feelings she appeared to be denying.

"I decided," Ruth continued, "to drop the case ….. the case to help you prepare for your hearing." Harry felt his shoulders relax as he sighed heavily in relief.

"Thank you, Ruth. I can do any preparation needed in my own time. I'm told there's not a lot I can do, but Toni has promised to send me a list of criteria I should be considering. She agrees that my report on your value to the security of the country should be finished, and then submitted. It's also possible that nothing I do will make any difference. I just wanted to save you doing a whole lot of work which may have no bearing on the case."

They finished their meal in silence, each thinking of the implications of what Ruth had found that day. Harry had rung Malcolm while Ruth prepared dinner, and Malcolm had promised to ring back with information as soon as it became available.

Harry was about to take Scarlet outside for a walk, when Ruth came up to him and kissed his cheek, resting her hand on his arm.

"I'm having an early night," she said. "Today was exhausting for me."

"Goodnight, Ruth. I'll be following you soon. Er …... to my bed, that is."

"Of course. Goodnight, Harry."

He watched as she left the room, and headed towards the stairs. As always, the room felt a little less warm without her in it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Monday (late night)**

Harry was asleep, his body curved into a foetal ball, when he felt the mattress move with the weight of another person. He sat up suddenly, taking in a breath as he did so. He felt a hand on his shoulder, as a familiar voice said, "Harry, it's only me."

He turned towards the voice, and there was Ruth, perched on the edge of his mattress, dressed in pale blue flannelette pyjamas.

"I was feeling vulnerable in my room …... being at the back of the house. Something in my head kept telling me that if we were raided overnight, then my room would be first port of call."

Harry lifted the duvet, and Ruth crawled under, sliding over the mattress until she was close to him. Very close. Almost touching. He felt his body flush with her nearness.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" he asked, knowing how that sounded, and hoping she'd take it as it was intended, and not as it may be misunderstood.

"Only if you promise to not take advantage of me."

"I'm not sure that you're the one being taken advantage of here, Ruth."

"You can always ask me to leave."

"You know I wouldn't do that to you. If you require company in bed, then I'm your man."

It took them a while to settle into suitable positions for sleeping. Ruth curved her body, with her back towards Harry, and asked him to sleep against her.

"Ruth …... as much as I'd like that, it could be rather …. embarrassing for both of us if …... my body reacts to your proximity."

"Oh, sorry," she said, turning to face him. "I hadn't thought about that. It just shows how long it is since I've shared a bed with a man."

He smiled at her words. They were each lying on their backs, their heads on their respective pillows, looking across at each other like any normal couple who wake during the night for a chat. For a moment, neither spoke, and they gazed at the other, not sure if the face they were seeing was real or imagined.

"How about if I turn on my side," he said, "my back to you, and you curl up against me?"

"I like the sound of that, but what if …...?" Her words tail off into you-know-what-I-mean territory.

"If anything untoward happens, then it'll be happening where you can't see it or feel it. Aren't you glad you're not a man?"

"Turn over, Harry, and I'll snuggle up to you."

He turned away from her, and curled his back away from her. The tension in his body increased to snapping point, until he felt her knees come up under his bottom, and rest against the backs of his thighs, as she wrapped herself around his back and buttocks. She felt warm and wonderful, and then when she put one arm over and around his waist, he was sure he had entered Paradise.

They were both tired, and so they fell asleep, wrapped together.

**Tuesday (early morning)**

Harry heard it first. The breaking of glass, somewhere downstairs. He opened his eyes, and listened, lying statue-still. He felt the steady rise and fall of Ruth's breathing against his back. It was when he heard footfalls on the stairs – the sounds made by several pairs of feet – that he quickly got out of bed, and put on his bathrobe. He covered Ruth so that only the top of her head showed above the duvet, and quickly opened the bedroom door, only to be shoved backwards by a man much taller and heavier than he.

"_Sit-on-the-bed-with-your-hands-behind-your-head_!" the man shouted.

Harry did as he was told, sitting on the edge of his bed, so that his body obscured Ruth from the sight of anyone standing in the doorway. He couldn't turn all MI-5 at this juncture, since he was meant to be James Munro, retired businessman. He was using a legend, so he had to act as his legend would act. A very bright torch was shone in his eyes.

"Kelvin John Farrer," spoke another male voice from the doorway, but due to the light shining in his eyes, Harry couldn't see the face. "Kelvin John Farrer, I have a warrant for your arrest. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

In the moment it took for the voice to announce its intentions, Harry let out a sigh of relief. This was a case of mistaken identity. He turned to see Ruth's frightened face looking out from under the duvet. He also saw the large frame of another man standing the other side of the bed. They were surrounded by at least three men.

"It's alright," he said to her. "They have the wrong place."

"Shut up, Mr Farrer. We have reason to believe that you have hidden in your home a quantity of controlled drugs, namely cocaine, morphine diacetate, and methamphetamine..."

It was clear to Harry that these men were members of the drug squad, and that they had been mistaken for someone else. But how? And why?

Harry moved as though to stand, and was punched in the stomach by a shorter, stockier man, who had emerged from the darkness that was the doorway. All the air left him, and he doubled over, thinking, _I'm getting too old for this shit._

"Stop this!"

Ruth's voice rang out, and surprising them all, her cry brought everything to a standstill. She had sat up in bed, her pale blue fluffy pyjamas an incongruous match for her authoritative voice.

"We are not who you think we are. You have the wrong house, the wrong people."

"Likely story, sweetheart. Tell that to your lawyer."

"At least, could you allow us to show you our passports. We have no drugs in this house …... perhaps a little paracetamol, but nothing else."

"Fake ID is par for the course with you lot," said one of the men.

"Let them," said the man on the opposite side of the bed.

Ruth got out of bed, and walked towards the door. "Mine's in another room," she said to the man beside the bed. "You can follow me if you like, but if you get any closer to me that two feet, I have to warn you that I have a black belt in karate, and I'm not afraid to use it if the circumstances demand. And I'm also aware that you can't conduct a search of this house without a warrant."

Harry smiled to himself as she marched out of the bedroom, the tall, skinny man behind her. He slowly stood up, and keeping all his movements slow and steady, he reached across to turn on his bedside lamp. Then, he opened the drawer next to the bed, shuffled around under some papers, and withdrew his passport. Not a good place to keep it, he knew, but it was a handy place should he need it in a hurry.

"Mr Munro," said the man with the torch, having turned it off due to a light now being on, and now examining Harry's passport. "We seem to have the wrong man."

Harry noticed the exchange between the other two men, a look which said, `likely story'. Harry knew then that he'd be getting no more sleep. It had just gone seven thirty, and he felt by the tingling on his skin that none of the three men in his bedroom believed a word he'd said.

Ruth re-entered the bedroom with the tall cop, who held her passport in his hand.

"It checks out, sir," he said to the cop with the torch. "She fits none if the descriptions we have of Farrer's associates."

"Just a bit of skirt, then," the fat one said with contempt. Harry wanted to kill him with his bare hands.

The head cop – the one with the torch – turned towards Harry, his eyes slits. "Do you know a woman by the name of Linda Gail Farrer, aged forty-nine, resident of Felixstowe?"

"Linda?" Harry said, slightly stunned by the question, but not showing it. "I know a Linda, but I don't know her full name."

The chief cop then took charge, stepping forward, while behind him, two more men in dark suits could be seen hovering in the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Mr Munro, Miss Barnes, I am sorry to have inconvenienced you, but until you are cleared after questioning, I'll be taking possession of your passports. Miss Barnes, you may stay here, but we'll be taking Mr Munro into Ipswich for questioning. I suggest you get dressed, Mr Munro. Read him his rights, Derek," he said to the stocky cop who'd punched Harry in the stomach, and then he and the other police left the room.

Ruth stepped through the doorway into the bedroom, as Harry looked around him, as if trying to decide what to wear. The stocky cop read Harry his rights, but Harry wasn't paying attention.

"I'll come into Ipswich with you," she said. "I can't stay here while you're being questioned," she said.

"No, Emma," he replied, looking at her meaningfully. "You have work to do here – remember? You'd better use my desktop computer. My laptop's not working. I think it has a virus."

She understood. She had to do some hacking, and the safest way would be on his desktop computer in his office next door to his bedroom. Ruth stepped up to him and kissed his cheek, her hands resting on his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly under her palms. It was not arousal which was causing his heart to race, but fear. The last thing he needed at this time was the attention of police, and worse than that would be a charge – false or otherwise – of drug possession and trafficking. If it got out that he was even being questioned, his career with MI-5 would be over in an instant.

**Tuesday (early afternoon)**

Ruth had heard nothing from Harry since he'd been driven away almost eight hours earlier. Harry was capable of handling his own questioning without a lawyer, but he had to be careful he didn't present as someone who knew too much about procedure and protocol. He had to be thorough, without giving away anything of his true identity. Ruth had hacked into the Suffolk Police system, and had all the information she required to get Harry off. She found the problem almost straight away. Kelvin Farrer was aged fifty-three, five-foot-nine in height, fair hair, balding, and with a stocky build. On paper, Harry could be Kelvin Farrer.

Ruth had then rung Malcolm Wynn-Jones on his mobile, telling him of Harry's dilemma.

"Leave it with me," Malcolm had said. "I've never posed as a lawyer, but it can't be all that hard. Use big words, speak in incomprehensible sentences, quote some statute or other …... I'm good at that. Give me an hour to bone up on the drug trafficking laws, and then I'll act. I'll keep you informed, and …... Ruth …..."

"Yes?"  
"Don't worry about Harry. He's intelligent and resourceful."

"I know that, Malcolm, but he's also proud, and he has a quick temper. He's capable of being his own worst enemy."

"I know, but he's also capable of maintaining his legend no matter what."

"I know, and ….. Malcolm …... thank you …. from both of us."

When, just after four o'clock, Malcolm rang Ruth back, she knew it would only be a short time before Harry was released. The carpenter and glazier turned up at four-thirty to fix the back door, so this could only mean that the police were accepting responsibility for entering the wrong home, and so Harry would soon be home. Ruth busied herself making apricot chicken with rice for dinner, and she chose a bottle of chablis to chill as an accompaniment to their meal .

**Tuesday (early evening)**

Ruth heard the squeal of brakes which needed adjusting as a car pulled up in the driveway. She rushed to the front door, and opened it, and Harry stepped into her arms. He felt tired and defeated under her hands, and he smelled a little sweaty, although on Harry, the smell of sweat was far from unpleasant. Behind him, she saw the cop – the tall, skinny one - nod to her in recognition or apology, she was not sure which, before he stepped back into the car, and backed out of the driveway.

Ruth took Harry's hand, and led him inside, where the table was set for dinner.

"I need to shower first," Harry said, hesitating in the doorway.

"I thought …... I was thinking that …..."

"What, Ruth? Spit it out."

"I was thinking that after dinner I could run the bath …. a nice hot bath with bubbles ….. for us."

"Do you mean both of us? Together?"

Ruth nodded, her hands tightly gripping the back of the chair.

"That's very ... risqué of you, Ruth."

Harry was smiling, but he seemed happy, and better than that, he wasn't teasing her.

"I thought it …... about time."

Harry nodded, still smiling.

"Can I wash my hands before we eat?"

Ruth nodded, barely aware that she needed to breathe before she passed out from the tension.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: This is the point at which this T-rated story becomes M.**_

* * *

**Tuesday (evening)**

Over dinner, Harry told her about his time in police custody.

"Were you worried, Harry?"

"Yes, I was. Had it got out who I was, then my future may have been even more bleak than it is now. I had an awful moment when they began questioning me about Jeremy Richards, husband of Toni Banks ..."

"How did they know about her?"

"We'd been talking about she and Jeremy - the morning before you found out about the bugs in the house. Had the police tried to access Jerry Richards' file, they'd have been blocked, so they probably figured he was some kind of Mr Big -"

"He was."

"But not in the way they expected. We were talking about me losing my freedom, and maybe having to go to gaol. They must have thought they were listening to a drug dealer talking with -"

"His bit on the side ... who was refusing to sleep with him."

"Exactly." Harry gazed at her, his face open.

"I take it that Malcolm intervened," Ruth said, not quite ready yet for such a moment between them.

"Yes. He rang, and acted as my lawyer via speaker phone. Theodore Wilson-Travers. That was his ….. name. I suspect he had fun making it up."

"It worked?"

"I expect I could have got out of there without his intervention, but he was very convincing, all the same. At one point he threatened to sue Suffolk Police for wrongful arrest. I thought that a little over the top, but it made that fat one shut up."

"So, who is Linda?"

"Her late husband was the original drug importer. When I first met her in that pub in Felixstowe, she kept saying that I reminded her of her Bobbie. The import business was set up by Robert Farrer, and his twin – Kelvin – took over the business after his death, with a little people smuggling on the side. In the end – around five-thirty - they brought in Linda, and she identified me as James Munro. It appears that they'd bugged the wrong house. Someone saw me turning into my lane, and assumed I was Farrer. His house – the one he uses for drop offs and meetings – is the next house along the road. The entrance to the lane leading to the house is hidden by trees."

"The police are idiots."

"No. Just careless. Someone failed to check the details. I'd hate to be the guy responsible for the cock-up when they find out which one decided to target my house. And they lost the bugs they put in the house, too. They won't get those back – they're in a million pieces in the bin."

"Did they hurt you, Harry?"

"I wasn't mistreated, if that's what you mean. My stomach is still a bit sore, though, from where the fat bloke hit me. I'm not used to the physical side of our job. I've had it too easy for too long."

"I don't think you have an easy time of it at all. Have you forgotten why you're here, away from London?"

"No, I haven't, but this situation has its advantages, wouldn't you say?"

Ruth put down her fork, and smiled across the table at him. "I've missed you today, Harry."

"Good."

* * *

Ruth left the bathroom while Harry undressed and stepped into the bath.

"I need you here, Ruth," he said, as she turned to close the door behind her. "Don't run away, will you?"

In less than ten minutes, she was back in the bathroom, dressed in nothing but her bathrobe. She'd brought with her another bottle of white wine, and two glasses. She poured a glass for them both, and set them on the ledge which ran the length of the tub. While Harry's head was turned as he leaned across to grab his glass, she dropped her robe from her shoulders, and stepped into the bath. He'd only caught the briefest of glimpses of her naked form before she was in the water, the bubbles covering her to her shoulders. Brief though that glimpse may have been, his body stirred at the sight of her, and the image of her rounded hips and breasts was burned on his retina. He just hoped he could maintain control until they got out of the bath.

"That's rather sneaky of you, Ruth. You do realise that I'm going to sit in this bath – until the water turns stone cold if necessary – and wait for you to get out."

"But I haven't seen you naked yet," Ruth replied, smiling, despite his threat.

"You will when the bubbles disappear. There is no place for coyness when a couple shares a bath together."

"Is that what we are, Harry – a couple?"

"What would you call us, then?"

"I think that we're moving towards being a couple. We're not quite there yet."

"What would it take, Ruth?"

"Some familiarising would be good. We need to touch one another more."

Despite the bath being rather large, Ruth sat facing Harry, her legs between his legs. She had her knees bent, because she was afraid that if she stretched her legs in front of her, her toes would connect with some rather tender flesh of his, and she didn't wish to embarrass him or herself this early in the evening. There would likely be embarrassment aplenty once they got out of the bath.

Ruth leaned back, and accepted the glass which Harry handed her. Harry poured a glass for himself, and then lifted it in a toast. "To us," he said. "To happier times ahead."

"To happier times ahead for us," Ruth repeated, her eyes holding his while they each drank from their glasses.

Harry reached under the water with his free hand, and grasped one of Ruth's feet, and putting his glass back on the ledge, he then took her foot in both his hands, and began pressing his fingers into the sole, rubbing one thumb along her instep. In response, Ruth lay back against the end of the tub, and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. His fingers were magical.

Ruth felt herself close to nodding off when Harry rested her foot against his stomach, and she felt a piece of hard flesh graze her ankle. Her eyes shot open in surprise, and she looked across at him to see him watching her. She sat up suddenly, and his hands and her foot fell away.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"You said you felt dirty when you got home from Ipswich."

"I said I needed to shower."

"I have the next best thing."

Ruth sat up, and manoeuvred her body so that she knelt in front of him. This meant that her breasts were visible above the water line. She took a sponge, and squeezed bath gel on to the surface, unaware that Harry was watching her, and that the jiggling of her breasts as she moved her arms was creating some difficulty for him. He closed his eyes, and sat back, hoping that the bubbles would last just long enough to cover the evidence of his excitement.

"Come closer to me, Harry. I'm going to wash you."

Harry opened his eyes to see Ruth kneeling in the water, the soapy sponge at the ready. He sat up and leaned towards her, his hands grasping the sides of the bath, and she began by soaping his shoulders, leaning close to him so that she could rub the sponge across his shoulders behind his head. As she did this, her breasts lightly touched his chest, something he had fantasised about many times when alone. He closed his eyes so that he could enjoy the sensation of her wet skin sliding against his, her face so close to his own that they were almost cheek to cheek. There may come a time very soon when the memory of this moment may have to be played over and over within the realm of his imagination.

Ruth could tell by Harry's changed breathing pattern that her closeness to him, her washing him, was turning him on. She washed his sides, and as much of his back as she could reach, then she washed each of his arms, taking time over his hands, rubbing gel between his fingers, and then entwining his hand with hers, admiring how well they looked together like that.

She took her ministrations to his chest, washing him across the full expanse of his chest, and then up his neck to his chin. She could feel his eyes on hers, and in the very brief glances towards his eyes, she could see the arousal in them, along with his desire to kiss her. She wanted to kiss those lips very much, but she knew that once they began, they'd not be able to stop. She took the sponge over his stomach, and then down. When she felt his erect penis bob against her wrist, she looked up at him. As much as she wanted to take her hand from the sponge and take him in her hand, running her fingers along his length, she didn't. She took the sponge away, and began on his feet. He'd been breathing heavily, but at her sudden movement away from his groin area, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm not trying to tease you, Harry …... just aiming to maintain your interest."

"You certainly have that, Ruth," he said huskily. "And here I was, believing you were shy, and I had to move slowly with you."

"I'm only shy about my body, Harry, and then only with you. I'm not shy about sex."

"Why would you be shy about your body? From what I can see, you're truly beautiful."

"You don't have to say that."

"I know I don't."

Ruth concentrated on washing each of Harry's legs, sweeping the sponge up from his ankles to his knees. He bent his legs slightly so that washing him was easier for her. When she began on his thighs, she took her time, sweeping the sponge from his knees to his groin area, and back again. Then she asked him to bend his legs at the knees while she washed him from the back of his knees to the base of his buttocks.

The longer she did that, the bolder Ruth became. She was not used to being in charge in the bedroom, and this bath, the one she and Harry were enjoying together – and they _were_ enjoying it – was definitely a prelude to the bedroom. She hadn't planned her actions ahead; she was simply following her instincts.

When she'd finished washing his legs, she moved between them, and putting her sponge aside, she poured a little gel into her hands, and rubbed her palms together. She looked at Harry, her eyebrows raised, and he smiled back at her, knowing what she was about to do. She slipped her hands under the water, and glided each of her palms down the inside of each of Harry's thighs. They met in the middle, and she rolled his balls around in her palms and fingers, careful to handle them gently. She watched him all the while, as he sat back and closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. As she ran one of her fingers the length of his penis, from its base to the tip, she heard him whisper the word, `careful'. As much as she really wanted to take him in her mouth, to taste him, and bring him to climax, she had other ideas. She herself was very aroused, and she was ready to feel Harry's hands on her skin.

Ruth took her hands out of the water, leaned across Harry's supine body, her own genital area across one of his legs, so that it was not close to his erection, and she put her face close to his neck.

"I want you to touch me, Harry," she said quietly, her meaning clear.

Harry opened his eyes, and turned to look at her. He put his hands behind her head and drew her face to his. This was their first truly sexual kiss. They opened their mouths to taste the other, and their tongues met. Ruth became lost in the kiss. The fingers of one of Harry's hands slid down her body until it reached her breast. He held her breast in his hand, and then his fingers cupped her breast, while his thumbnail vibrated across her nipple, so that Ruth pulled out of the kiss so that she could draw in breath.

Harry sat up, and in so doing, their bodies moved apart a little. Ruth felt his hand move from her chest down her abdomen, to her pubic area. He cupped her in his hand, so that it took all of her self-control to not grind herself against his hand.

Harry asked her to sit up so that he could take her other breast in his mouth. At the same time as his tongue worked its way around and across her nipple, his fingers slid lightly across her folds …... and back again. He was driving her wild with desire, but he was not doing enough to bring her to orgasm. Suddenly, he sank his fingers into her, pushing against her most sensitive spot, at the same time as he pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked on it hard. Ruth felt her body explode. She thrust herself down on to his fingers at the same time she pushed her chest against him. She literally saw stars, and she called out something which was meant to be his name, but to her ears sounded like: _Hacque. _

Ruth rested against Harry's body until she had the energy to again open her eyes and look at him. He was smiling at her, and he gently kissed her before he spoke.

"I think it's time we took this to the bedroom, Ruth."


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thanks to all who are still following this, and reviewing. Part of me thinks I went too far in this chapter, but ... how far is too far?**_

* * *

**Tuesday (late evening)**

Ruth still felt warm and wonderful when she slipped under the duvet in Harry's bed. He'd stayed in the bathroom to let the water out of the bath, and to hang up the towels. He walked through the bedroom doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, the bottle of wine and glasses in his hands.

"Would you like another glass of wine, Ruth?"

She'd rather have tasted him, but she nodded, and took the glass from him.

"I need to see you, Harry. Can you drop the towel?"

His face showed embarrassment at her request, as he busied himself pouring his own glass of wine.

"I'm no longer young and fit, Ruth. I'm worried you'll …..." His words trickled away to nothing.

Ruth sat up, the duvet sliding down to her waist. Harry had dropped the towel on to the floor, and she gazed at him while his partially erect penis began to grow again as his eyes devoured her body.

"Come here," she said, reaching her free hand to him. "I want to feel your body against mine."

He slid into bed, and sat next to her, his body touching her skin, his glass of wine still in his hand. Ruth had taken a couple of sips of wine, but it was Harry she wanted, so she put her glass on the bedside table, and turned towards him so that her breasts rested against his arm, and with her leg slipped over his thigh, her warmth, her sex, rested against his upper leg. She found his proximity very arousing. She sat up, and lifted herself across his his body, her bottom resting on his thighs. Harry's eyes widened. He put down his glass, and turned his full attention to her.

"I want you, Harry," she said, "and I can't wait."

"But I ... I want to taste you."

His words aroused her further, and she leaned into him and kissed him, their tongues tangling inside her mouth. Their kiss intensified, and Ruth touched his penis lightly with her fingertips, and Harry groaned into her mouth. As she grasped his shaft in her hand, and began massaging him gently, he pulled out of the kiss, his breathing heavy and shallow.

"Ruth -" was all he could say.

"I wanted to taste you, too," she said, "but I don't think it'll happen tonight. Do you mind if I …..."

"Ruth …...you can do whatever you see fit. I'm all yours."

"Then stay sitting up, Harry. I'll …..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Harry grasped the back of her head with one hand, and began kissing her, his tongue seeking hers. As they kissed, she felt Harry's fingers between her legs, pushing between them until once more he had two fingers inside her. This time, as he thrust his fingers into her over and again, his thumb pressed rhythmically against her clitoris. Ruth pulled out of the kiss as she came, and he kept pushing his fingers into her until she flopped against him, exhausted.

"What about you, Harry?" she asked, once she could speak.

Harry had both his arms wrapped around her, and she could feel his erection against her stomach.

"You need to come, too."

"I almost have several times," he said. "When we were in the bath together, I was so close."

"So were I to take you in my mouth …..."

"I'd come in two seconds flat …... maybe less."

"And were I to lift myself on to you ….." Ruth added, stretching her thighs and lifting herself so that her wetness touched the tip of his penis.

Harry was already incapable of speech. His hands were on her hips, but his eyes were closed, and he'd let his head fall back against the headboard of the bed.

Ruth held his shaft while she slowly lowered herself on to him. Once he filled her fully, she rested, not moving. Harry's breathing was shallow and quick, so she knew he'd not last terribly long. When she felt his thumbs move across her lower abdomen towards her clitoris, she began moving up and down, slowly at first, and then a little quicker. Once she'd set up a steady rhythm, she heard Harry's breaths coming in short gasps, and one of his thumbs again found her clitoris, and circled it before honing in on the bud.

Ruth was sure she felt him ejaculate inside her. He pushed his hips up to her and gasped loudly, still managing to massage her clitoris. Once she was sure he'd climaxed, she let her own orgasm overwhelm her, as she fell forward, pushing her pubic bone against his body, before she collapsed against him, her head falling against his shoulder.

Once their breathing had slowed, they rolled over, Harry arranging their pillows so that they could lay down, and they fell against them, their arms around the other, and exhausted, they slept.

**Wednesday (morning)**

Ruth awoke to the rattling of china, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Harry, dressed in a bathrobe which he'd left untied, so that it gaped at the front, showing his flaccid penis in all its exhausted glory, while he poured her a cup of tea.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he said, reaching over to kiss her.

Feeling playful, she put her hand through the opening in his bathrobe, and ran her fingers lightly along his length. She thought she felt a little movement, but she wasn't sure.

"I may need a little more recovery time," he explained, as he handed her cup to her, and sat on the bed beside her.

Ruth sipped her tea demurely, the duvet pulled up to cover her breasts. Occasionally, she looked at him through her eyelashes to see him watching her. All the time Ruth drank her tea, she planned how she was going to seduce Harry, who was hardly playing hard to get. Once she'd had a taste of him in bed, she wanted more, and she wanted it very soon. His words about needing more recovery time were said to challenge her, she was almost certain of that.

Finishing her cup of tea, Ruth held out her cup, asking Harry to pour her another one. She'd no sooner thanked him than she took a decent sip, and swilled it around in her mouth. Holding it there, she put down her cup, and leaned across towards Harry, dipping her head at the last moment, taking his penis in her mouth. She felt, as well as heard his gasp.

"Christ, Ruth," he said, "what are you doing to me?"

As she moved her lips along his length, taking more of him into her mouth, she swilled the tea around a few times, and then feeling him beginning to harden, she swallowed the tea, pulling him further into her mouth, until he filled her.

"Dear God," he gasped, "where did you learn to do that?"

The truth was, she hadn't learned it anywhere. She hadn't even read about it. She'd only thought about doing it a few seconds before carrying it out. She pulled her mouth away from him, and watched as he hardened even more. Then she stepped off the bed, stating she needed to go to the bathroom. She really should have showered, but she didn't want to lose another opportunity with Harry, so she relieved herself, and then washed away last night's sex. Once she'd cleaned her teeth, she was ready to return to the bedroom.

As she stepped through the doorway to Harry's bedroom, she noticed that he'd removed his bathrobe – it was in a heap on the floor beside the bed – and he'd covered his lower body with the duvet. As she walked around the bed to her side, his eyes followed her naked form, and she noticed that one of his hands was under the duvet, and it appeared he was stroking himself.

"What are you up to?" she asked, as she got under the duvet, and slid closer to him.

"Keeping myself warm for you," he replied.

"Can I try that?" she asked, sliding her hand under the duvet, joining his own as he slowly stroked himself, maintaining his hardness. Harry watched Ruth face in fascination as she took over massaging him with her hand. This was a side of Ruth which was new to him …... new, and very welcome. He felt himself reach a place where he either had to stop the direct stimulation, or accept that within a minute or even less, he would climax.

"Ruth ….." he said, his voice strangled.

He grasped her hand, and lifted it from him, before he turned over, and slid down the bed until his mouth was between her legs. It was Ruth's turn to lie back as he used his tongue to slide into her, as well as to stimulate her clitoris. He was skilled at this. He was sensitive to her response to his tongue and lips, as he brought her close to her own orgasm. Then he stopped. _Bloody Harry!_

Ruth opened her eyes, and lifted her head to find Harry moving up the bed on his elbows and knees, until he rested his erection between her legs, and he placed his mouth just beneath her ear, and kissed and licked her neck gently, very slowly kissing his way along her neck, to her jaw, and up her chin. When his lips reached her mouth, she tasted herself on him, and handed over control of their lovemaking to him. She wanted him inside her, and she wanted that to happen immediately. Each time she lifted her pelvis to meet his erection, he'd move away slightly, just out of her reach.

"Patience, Ruth," he said as he lifted his mouth from hers.

"But -"

Harry put a finger across her lips to silence her. "Don't talk, _feel_. Just feel, darling."

He lifted his finger from her lips, holding her eyes with his own. Suddenly, without warning, he slid inside her, burying himself as deeply as he could with one thrust of his pelvis. Ruth sighed, the sound, `ahhh' escaping her lips as she breathed out, and a smile softened her face.

"Just enjoy this," Harry added quietly, before he began moving inside her.

His face was very close to Ruth's, most of his body weight resting on his elbows, and she watched him as he closed his eyes and set up a steady pelvic rhythm. Every so often he'd open his eyes to check that she was still happy, but mostly he made love to her with his eyes closed. Despite the growing tension in her pelvis due to Harry moving inside her, Ruth felt more at peace than she had since she'd been a child. She felt safe. She felt warm, and she felt very, very loved. She was in love with a man who knew how to make love, as opposed to men who knew how to fuck ….. and they were as common as the pebbles on a beach. She'd been lucky that George had not been that way, but she'd been with men like that …... men who used woman's bodies with little thought for the woman. Harry loved her, and Harry was making love to her – properly, and fully.

Ruth had no sooner detached herself from her thoughts – turned off her mind, and occupied her body, _feeling_, just as Harry had suggested – than she felt her body surging towards climax. She was momentarily surprised, but allowed what was happening to her to happen. She had the impression that she and Harry had been making love for some time …... much longer than they had the night before, when she had ridden him. She gave herself over to her climax, grasping Harry's buttocks with her heels, and his sides with her fingers. She heard an animal sound burst out of her, and Harry's eyes opened suddenly as his own orgasm overtook him, and he pushed himself deeper and deeper, collapsing against her for a moment, before he pulled her on to her side so that they lay together, each facing the other.

Ruth opened her eyes to see Harry smiling at her. He kissed her lips quickly and gently, and then lifted his eyebrows in a question.

"That was …... wonderful," Ruth said, and Harry kissed her again.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked.

"That's not code for `let's go again', is it, because I'm thoroughly shagged out."

"No it's not, and thank you for that compliment."

"Did you enjoy that?" Ruth asked, suddenly shy.

"That's a ridiculous question, Ruth. Any man who doesn't enjoy making love to the woman he loves has not yet been born."

"Can you prove that?"

"No, I can't. I'm making an assumption."

* * *

Breakfast was different this time. Gone were the long silences while they'd decided how best to address the next question – or answer. Words between them were few, but quick glances and smiles, along with touches, were many. Harry viewed it as he and Ruth having crossed the desert and found an oasis. However, there _was_ one thing which still hung between them.

"When are you planning to return to London, Ruth?"

Ruth looked up at him, her face bewildered, as though she hadn't quite understood the question. "Oh, _that_," she said. "I was hoping that you and I could stay here like this for the rest of our lives. I told Dimitri and Tariq – whom I hoped passed on my message to Erin Watts, your illustrious replacement – that I'd be gone no more than a week. The week is up in a little over two days, but I'm hoping to squeeze out a few more days. I'll have to check in by email. I don't fancy talking to our new acting section head by phone. Tariq told me that he finds her scary."

"Tariq finds all women scary."

"I don't think he finds me scary."

"I agree, Ruth, but you're kind and gentle. Tariq looks upon you as …..."

"A _mother_ figure?"

"I was thinking more of a big sister."

"How do you see me, Harry?"

"I see you as sexy as hell. I'm pretty sure Tariq doesn't see you that way."

"I hope not."

"If he did, I may have to kill him."


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Final chapter. This chapter possesses some direct quotes from Spooks, S.10.01, and these quotes belong to Kudos.**_

* * *

**Saturday (early afternoon)**

Harry pulled his car into the train station carpark, and sat back against the seat. The prospect of seeing Ruth off on the train back to London was eating away at him almost as much as it had when she'd boarded that tugboat almost five years earlier. This time, things were different between them. This time they had openly declared their love for one another, and they had made love – as many times as they could physically manage in the time they had together. Any more than that was difficult, given the outcome of the inquiry was still unknown. They couldn't plan any sort of a future together until Harry had stood in front of the tribunal, and pleaded his case.

"It might be best if we say goodbye here," Ruth said quietly, noticing Harry was experiencing difficulty in dealing with her leaving.

"What say we just run away? We can get on a boat on the Thames, and travel to Europe. From there ….. we can go anywhere."

"Do you want us to be spending the rest of our lives running, Harry? You'd never be able to see your children again, and you'd never get to meet your grandchildren when they're born. Is that really what you want?"

Harry turned to face her, and shook his head. Then he sighed heavily. "I don't want to let you go. When I do, bad things happen. You're my good luck charm, Ruth. When you're with me, I can do anything."

Ruth leaned across the gap between their seats and pulled his head down to hers, and then she kissed him – passionately and deeply. "We're one another's good luck charm, Harry."

"I feel as though all I do for you is bring you grief."

"The thing is, if you see me off on the platform, it might be risky. We might be seen."

"In _Ispwich_? I've covered my tracks thoroughly, Ruth."

"I know you have, but the police might still be keeping an eye on you."

"I've thought of that, and they're not. Police security is woeful. It's easy to tell if they're following you. I'm seeing you off on the platform. You can't stop me."

And she couldn't. Theirs was a tearful goodbye. They didn't know when they'd next see one another, let alone spend a night together, so they both shed tears, their tears mingling on their faces as they kissed goodbye. When Ruth boarded the train, Harry turned and walked away. She understood why. He couldn't bear to watch while she left him again.

The train had been in motion for only a few minutes when a text message alert sounded on Ruth's pay as you go phone.

_I already miss you terribly. I love you. H xx_

Ruth smiled as she read it, even though she knew that Harry was hurting deeply, and she hated it when that happened. She replied straight away.

_I'm counting the days until we can be together again. We **will** have a life together. Ruth xxx_

She deliberately added the extra `x', because she knew that a little bit of one-up-man-ship would amuse Harry.

To take her mind of Harry, and how much she missed him, Ruth took a book out of her bag, and opened it where she'd left the bookmark. She was re-reading Thomas Hardy, just for the exercise.

* * *

Back in London, Ruth bought herself three more pay as you go phones, just in case someone, somewhere had intercepted the daily texts and calls between she and Harry. She'd ring him at least twice a day, and they both sent regular texts – some serious with love and longing, and others silly and laden with sexual innuendo. The regular communication helped them to remain connected, and to hold on to the belief that they could find a way to be together, regardless of the outcome of the inquiry.

Ruth took a weekend off, three weeks after she left Harry in Suffolk, and travelled by train to Ipswich, where Harry met her and drove her back to his house. They spent all of Friday night, and until Saturday lunchtime in bed, and when it came time for Ruth to board the train back to London, the pain of parting tore at them once again.

Harry returned to London three weeks before the inquiry, but they only managed to meet a handful of times, and only once did they manage to spend a night together. They talked about anything except the inquiry, now fast approaching.

* * *

Harry asked Ruth to not attend the inquiry, and as curious as she was about some of Harry's background, she knew most of it, and what she didn't know, she was perhaps better off not knowing, so she stayed away. She also reasoned that her presence there every day could be viewed as a sure sign that Harry's and her relationship was more personal than professional, and she hadn't wanted to pour fuel on to that particular fire. When it came to the final day – the day when the members of the panel delivered their verdict – she had to be there. She wanted to be there for Harry, and she wanted to be there to satisfy her own innate curiosity.

**Thursday (early afternoon) **

Harry sat at the table directly facing the head of the panel. Ruth had assured him she'd be there for the sentencing, although he hadn't wanted her there.

"Would you be able to stay away were our roles reversed?" she'd asked him when they'd spoken on the phone the night before.

He was silent for a time, planning a `proper' answer, the kind of answer he should give, rather than the answer he wanted to give. "Of course not." `Want' had won over `should'.

"Don't worry, Harry. If they give you a harsh sentence, I'll be stoic under duress. I won't give us away."

"I know you won't," he said quietly, silently praying that he'd never have to find out what stoic and silent Ruth was like.

"... and the charges made against you are of the utmost severity."

As the chairperson of the tribunal summed up, Harry watched and listened, and responded when expected, but a part of him was aware that Ruth was in the room, sitting behind him. He desperately wanted to turn and look at her. Apart from the precious time they had spent together, he had missed her in his life these past eight weeks.

When Harry drew from his briefcase his report of Ruth's role in key security operations, he knew she'd be watching, curious about the contents of his report.

"Her work has saved many lives," Harry said, "often at grave cost to herself. I did not put a personal relationship above our security. I made an operational decision in the nation's interest."

When the tribunal chairperson was called away, Harry couldn't help himself. He turned to look at Ruth. It was the briefest of glances during which their eyes met only momentarily, and she maintained her composure and the appearance of `merely a colleague'.

He knew this was going to be difficult. They could no longer afford to put a foot wrong.

When the chairperson returned and told him of the conditions of his return to work, Harry replied in the way he knew he was expected: "I serve my country in whatever capacity asked of me."

* * *

Ruth travelled with him while he met with the Home Secretary. It was clear that Towers had saved his neck, and that he would be required to return the favour. On the short drive back to Thames House, he and Ruth said little.

"You'll do what you're told, then?" she asked, once the car was in motion, and in traffic.

"I don't have much choice in the matter. This is hardly ideal, but it's better than being kicked out in disgrace."

"Were they to have sacked you, Harry, I would have resigned."

"No, Ruth, you can't be thinking like that. You have a shining career ahead of you. Mine is already in decline."

Ruth reached out then, and rested her fingers on his leg. She noticed him smile. These next few weeks were going to be difficult, Ruth could sense it. She and Harry would meet in secret, but they'd have to be careful.

Back on the Grid, Harry met Erin Watts for the first time, and complained that she'd messed with his chair. Ruth smiled to herself when Dimitri asked Harry about his `er …... break'. Dimitri had a fair idea of what kind of break Harry had had. When Harry replied with, "At one particularly dark moment, I actually considered gardening," Dimitri smiled to himself. Harry was good at thinking on his feet; it was one of the things he did best. Dimitri already had an idea how Harry had spent part of his break, but he imagined that boredom must have set in during the times when Ruth wasn't with him.

**Thursday (late evening) **

It was very late when Ruth arrived home. She'd only just stepped inside her flat when she heard a light tapping on her front door. She knew who it was. She almost ran to the door to open it to Harry.

"I thought we had to stay under the radar for a while," she said, as she closed the door, and allowed him to take her in his arms. It was a while before Harry replied. His kisses were hungry and full of need for her.

"I can't stay long," he said. "I want to stay almost more than I want to breathe, but I may still be being watched, and not just by our people."

"Who else would be watching you?"

Harry leaned his back against the wall, taking Ruth with him. He buried his face in her neck, and kissed her skin repeatedly.

"I can't be sure," he said, once he'd lifted his head to look at her, "but I suspect it may be the Russians."

"The _Russians_?"

"It's a very long story, Ruth, and I don't wish to be talking about it yet. Not until I know for sure. I've discovered something about the death of Max Witt which points directly to the Russians, and …... and I have a history with the Russians which I'd rather not talk about just yet …... even with you."

Harry looked longingly at Ruth, wishing he could take her away from all this – the tribunal, the Grid, the Russians, the inevitability of the immediate future …...

"I love you so much," he said quietly, and pulled her to him, holding her close. "Do you trust me, Ruth?"

"Of course I trust you." Her voice was slightly muffled due to her face being pressed against his chest.

"You have to trust me during the next few weeks. I may seem like I'm acting out of character, but I'll need to know that you're beside me – metaphorically speaking."

"I'll be by your side, Harry. We love one another. We have to be able to depend on one another's support …... and you know that I trust you unreservedly."

Harry again kissed her, this time with urgency and passion. "I really want to take you upstairs, Ruth, but I haven't the energy to be doing more than what we're doing now."

"After whatever this is with the Russians is over, Harry, we'll have to take some time off – together, and openly – and go away somewhere. We'll have deserved it."

"I promise you that, Ruth. We've deserved it, and more than anything, you've earned it." He lifted his head, and looked across at the wall the other side of the hallway. "Maybe," he said quietly, into her ear, "maybe we can make it our honeymoon."

"Harry Pearce! Was that a marriage proposal? _ Another _one?"

"I do believe it was. What do you say?"

"I say let's get through these next few weeks, and then we'll re-examine our position."

"That sounds like an almost-yes. At least, it's not a no."

"You're right, Harry, it's not a no."

They snogged some more, Harry's back propping them up against the wall in the hallway, and then he made a move to leave.

"We'll be alright, Ruth," he said, just before he opened the door to leave.

"Yes, we'll be alright. If we keep talking, we'll be fine."

Harry kissed Ruth again, briefly, but passionately, and then disappeared into the dark night.

**Wednesday (late evening) …... 4 months later **

"Are you still awake?"

"Why?"

"Nothing. Just wondering."

"Harry, if you want sex again, you'll have to take another wife, because this wife needs some rest."

"I don't want sex again – not right now, anyway - and I definitely don't want another wife. I just …... I just like to hear your voice."

"Oh, Harry ….."

"Oh, Harry what?"

"Oh, Harry, I love you to bits."

"I always wondered what was meant by that saying, Ruth …... to love someone to bits. What does it mean?"

"It means that I love you …... even when you're old and broken."

"That's good, I guess."

"Yes, it is."

"I wonder what Ilya Gavrik is doing tonight."

"Do you really care, Harry?"

"Not really …... but I'd love to let him know that while I might not have a tortoise in my garden, I have my extremely sexy wife in my bed, which is more than he has."

"_Harry!"_

"What?"

"It's unlike you to gloat over the misfortunes of others."

"Maybe …... but I can't help myself."

"Let it go, darling."

"Alright … but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you kiss me again."

"Go to sleep, Harry. My lips are tired."

"All I'm asking is for just one kiss, Ruth."

"It can never be just one kiss, can it?"

"What do you mean?"

"There will be another, and then another, and then …... well, you know what comes next."

"Yes ….. wonderful, isn't it?"

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, my love."

_fin_

* * *

_**A/N: This fic originally ended before the last section, with Harry walking out into the night, the "Russian problem" still ahead of them and unresolved. The poet in me preferred that ending, but the romantic wanted resolution – thus, the slightly mad last scene. I hope you enjoyed.**_


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